


Backfired

by anysin



Series: Kinktober 2017 [10]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dubious Consent, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 07:49:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12552676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anysin/pseuds/anysin
Summary: Stan returns the mind control tie to Ford. Things get out of hand. For Kinktober 2017.





	Backfired

“Really, Stanley.”

Ford’s voice couldn’t be more condescending, and Stan wants to spit in his face for that. But he can’t; he’s pinned against the wall, with Ford pressed tight against his back, gripping the back of Stan’s head with one hand and Stan’s wrist with another, bending it behind Stan’s back. It’s painful and Stan is groaning, struggling even though he’s starting to realize it’s pointless. Sixer has become so much stronger than him, so much more capable. He was always the latter.

“Trying to instigate a fight again, really?” Ford’s knee pushes between Stan’s thighs, trapping him even more thoroughly against the wall. “When will you learn, Stanley?”

“Kiss my ass.”

“I’m sure you’d love that.” Ford releases the back of Stan’s head and grabs his other wrist when Stan reaches behind and makes a grab for him, pinning it to the wall. “Now, what should I do with you?”

“Nothing? You made your point already.” Stan stops squirming, hoping that will encourage Ford to let him go. He glances down at the mind-control tie on the floor, forgotten there after he and Ford started their fight; he wishes he had waited until the morning to return it, like he originally planned. As much as he hates it, he has to admit that Ford was right about one thing: Stan can’t be trusted to handle his emotions when he’s angry.

“No, I think I need to do something.” Ford pulls him off the wall, still holding tight onto his wrists as he maneuvers Stan around, starting to walk him towards a desk. “You are forgetting who is the master of this house, Stanley. I think you need a reminder.”

“Ford!” But he’s bent over the desk, his boxers are being pulled down and Ford is fucking smacking him right on the ass, like he’s a little kid. “Ow! Ford!” Stan starts struggling again, trying to lift himself off the thigh that is still pushed between his thighs, but it’s unyielding, trapping him against Ford’s desk. Ford is holding his wrists together with one hand now, keeping them pinned above Stan’s head as he smacks him again, and again.

“Shit! Ford!”

“That’s my name,” Ford agrees. Asshole. “Saying that is not going to help you, Stan, you need to learn.”

“Well, so do yo-OWW.” That smack went way too close to his balls, making them tingle even without direct contact. Stan squirms, trying not to rub against the compact thigh between his own. “Damn it, Ford, all I wanted was an apology! Is that too much to ask for!”

That turns out to be the wrong thing to say.

Stan realizes his mistake the moment Ford goes still and quiet behind him, but by then it’s too late; Ford tightens his hold on him, the pressure on Stan’s bones building up to the point it has Stan groaning out loud, and Ford shoves his thigh hard up against Stan’s groin. Sweat breaks on Stan’s skin, slicking him all over.

“You want an apology. You.” Ford’s voice is barely more than a hiss, but Stan has no trouble hearing every word. “Well then, allow me to apologize to you.”

Ford’s hand pulls up high and slams down, so forceful it takes Stan’s breath away.

“I’m sorry I didn’t control you myself.”

Without giving him time to recover, Ford smacks him hard again on the same spot, making Stan cry out.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to babysit your irresponsible ass.”

Ford keeps hitting him, taking full advantage of his broad palm and his six fingers as he lets Stan’s ass have it, until Stan can feel bruises forming on his skin, stinging hot on his flesh.

“I’m sorry you’re so incapable of taking care of yourself that those poor, undeserving kids need mind-control devices in order to ensure you won’t get into trouble.” Ford ceases with his strikes, leaning over Stan to breathe hotly into his ear, making him shake as he whispers: “I’m sorry I can’t hold your hand for the rest of your life, Stanley. I’m sorry you obviously still need that.”

“Fuck you!” Stan tries to thrash his whole body backwards; he might as well do that to a brick wall. Ford holds him down with ease, laughing into his ear.

“Too honest of me, Stanley?” Ford chuckles, his hand on Stan’s wrists securing its hold on him. “All right, let me make it up for you.”

Stan is completely unprepared when he’s flipped over to his back, the wood of the desk pressing painfully against his sore ass cheeks, but then Ford is there, pushing his body between Stan’s legs as he leans down to kiss him, swallowing Stan’s surprised groan. Ford is hard when his groin slides over Stan’s, his thick, swollen cock straining hotly through the fabric of his pants against Stan’s soft, naked one.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” Ford asks him when he pulls away, continuing to hold onto Stan’s wrists as he reaches down for his zipper. Stan watches as Ford inches it down, slipping a hand inside his pants to search for his cock, drawing it out into view. Stan thinks he should say no, put an end to this, but the fact is, he doesn’t really want to. He never does.

“That’s what I thought,” Ford says, and that almost makes Stan want to fight back again, but instead he finds himself spreading his legs and wrapping them around Ford as Ford guides the head of his cock against his entrance, rubbing the leaking tip against the puckered hole. Stan bites his lip, pressing up against his brother.

Ford’s tongue brushes over his upper lip, almost contemplative, and then he’s spitting in his palm, taking it down to wet his cock quickly before grabbing Stan’s hip. Stan grimaces when Ford’s fingers press against a fresh bruise, but he bears it, as well as Ford’s mostly dry entrance into him; it’s good pain, it’s desirable pain. It reminds him that Ford is there, present and around despite his words.

Even if Ford doesn’t really want to be, it’s still better than nothing.

Ford fucks him hard, showing little to no concern for his comfort as he rocks his hips against Stan’s, making the whole desk shake with his thrusts. Stan squirms against the hand holding onto his wrists, wanting to stroke himself, but Ford doesn’t relent, nor does he try to pleasure Stan himself. Not that it’s necessary; Stan is hardening fast, his cock stretching out to its full length between their bodies, dripping pre-come with every jerk of their hips.

“S-Sixer,” Stan mutters, despite trying to keep it in; he doesn’t want to moan for Ford when he knows that Ford isn’t going to do the same for him, not yet, not maybe ever. He chews on his lower lip, squeezing his legs tight around Ford’s hips as his brother fucks him, heels digging against Ford’s ass cheeks. He feels them clench and tighten as Ford’s thrusts become more frantic, more brutal.

“Y-you,” Ford says, and that’s all he says; he pushes his face into the crook of Stan’s neck and bites down, groaning against Stan’s flesh as he starts to come. Feeling Ford twitch inside him, filling him with his semen, fucking through his release, is enough to make Stan come, his seed spilling against both of their stomachs.

Ford is still mouthing at Stan’s neck as he lies heavily on top of him, finally loosening his hold on Stan’s wrists. Stan’s shoulders ache when he lets his hands come down from their forced position, making him grimace; he must have made some kind of a sound too as he feels Ford go tense, and before Stan can say anything, Ford is getting up, pushing himself away from Stan.

That’s the part that hurts. The fight, the spanking, the harsh words- all those Stan could handle, but now all he wants to do is get out of here. Ignoring the pain both inside him and on the outside, Stan heaves himself off the desk and picks his boxers up from the floor, putting them back on. He doesn’t look at Ford as he leaves the basement, and Ford lets him go.


End file.
